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Storms of the Purple Dinosaur kind.

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ello readers! Sorry for the vanishing-act interlude, it’s been helluva month, since I last put pen to paper. Not only has they’re been some larger-than-life scale happenings behind those ever illusive scenes; photographic musings have taken me in a very disorientated cross-county hopscotch, to the four corners, of the this storm stricken island. Albeit, whilst working like a dog on my forth coming new blog; a sub-edit of the ‘With-Love’ mothership and solely dedicated to my freelance writing work and the other neglected tentacles of my identity….

Today is a good day. How do I know that? Because its a far cry and step up from last night stranded-ment state, at a station so remote and un-user friendly, Google seems to knows less about it, than its public transport links on Mars. A station that bears so much homage to energy saving bulbs, night vision goggles should come as advisory. After 40 minutes of standing mush on to storm barney, dressed in monochrome and feeling significantly emperor penguin like. I slowly began to wonder, if this may be indeed be the end of the line; for I that is, not the railway track. It showcased some solid resemblance’s, to an apocalyptic Christmas-special blockbuster, with a dash of Charles Dickens ‘Signal Man’ thrown in the mix. Evermore so, when the stations trusted intercom communication system, was discovered to attain a non-existent microphone and several emergency telephone numbers that lead to, a not so reassuring white noise. FML!

In my moment of sheer desperation, I decided it be rather novel, to join the equally helpless Romanian gentleman and his superhero, boy-racing pal, on a speaker-thumping, joyride to Wolverhampton. A station that would most surly offer a slither of human intelligence and a train that wasn’t water logged or wedged between two sycamores. To cut a long story short, I made it home surprisingly alive, several hours later than anticipated but blessedly unearthed by 85mph gail’s, nor kidnapped by Eastern European civil engineers. HUZAHH!

All was forgotten once the family feast, of a deep-pan pepperoni, bubbled before my eyes, on arrival at the Mc fort…. and like some straight out of scripture prodigy, the holy grail of sweet-tooth calorific content was discovered in the ice berg jammed depths of the freezer..